Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 324: You Don’t Know The Man

Winn leaned back, exhaling. "I know what you’re going to say," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "That I’m being an asshole."

Sam snorted softly. "No," he said. "You’re being territorial. You don’t know the man," he continued. "You never did. And finding out that he’s actually your father?"

"I grew up thinking my father was a monster. And then I find out his brother is my real father, and I’m supposed to just... what? Shake his hand? Invite him to dinner?"

"Your mother has been through hell in the last few hours. She thought she was going to bury you. Tim was there. He held her together."

"That doesn’t make him good," Winn said instantly. "Tom wanted her for her money. What makes Tim any different? What if he’s poison too—just a different flavour? I’m not taking chances. He should stay away from me. And from my mother."

"You may be able to decide the former," Sam said evenly. "But you don’t get to decide the latter."

"The hell I can’t," Winn snapped. "Tom ruined our lives. Ruined her life. She watched him do it. If living as a nun for the rest of her life is the price, she can afford it. Call it penance."

"Is that really what you want?" Sam asked. "For your mother to live the rest of her life alone and miserable because you’re angry?"

Winn scoffed. "You’re alone," he shot back reflexively. "Are you miserable?" Then, unable to resist the instinctive jab that had always been their shared language, he smirked faintly. "Okay, I take that back. You are miserable."

The cane cracked against his knee before he could blink.

"Ow—shit!" Winn yelped, jerking back instinctively. "Dude! I just returned from the dead. Can you at least pretend to be gentle?"

"Quit being a little bitch," he snapped, eyes blazing now. "I am not alone, Winn. Not even close." He straightened slightly, pride threading his words. "I’ve got family. I’m surrounded by love."

"And yes," Sam went on, "I never remarried after my wife died. Because no one could ever step into her shoes. No one could measure up to the woman who owned my soul." He exhaled slowly. "But that doesn’t make me alone. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me miserable."

He glanced back at Winn, lips twitching. "Well. Except when I see your face."

"Yeah," Winn murmured. "I know you love me."

"I don’t," Sam said flatly. "I tolerate you."

"I love you too," Winn replied easily.

"Apologise to your mother, you piece of shit."

"I will," Winn said. He meant it.

Sam snorted, shook his head, and finally left.

Ivy stirred then.

It was barely anything—a flutter of lashes, a shift of fingers—but Winn noticed immediately. His head snapped toward her, his entire body going alert. He leaned forward, tightening his grip on her hand.

"Hey, babe," he murmured.

Her lashes lifted slowly, heavy with exhaustion and medication. Then she saw him. Really saw him. Colour. Breath. Life.

Relief broke across her face.

"You’re okay," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I’m okay. I heard you were a bad bitch though."

Her eyes filled then, tears slipping down. "I’m so sorry," she said. "I’m so sorry I was mad at you."

He shook his head immediately, lifting her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Hey. Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay," he said gently. "You can be mad. You’re allowed. Hell—you’re hot when you’re mad."

She let out a broken sound that might have been a laugh.

"I’ll even make you mad on purpose sometimes," he added, grinning faintly.

Her fingers tightened around his. "I was so scared," she confessed. "Really scared. Don’t do that to me ever again."

"I promise," he said. "Never again. When I thought I was dying," he said slowly, carefully, "I had one regret."

Her brows knit slightly. "What’s that?" she asked.

"That I never married you. That I never stood in front of everyone and told the world you’re mine," he continued. "That I never put a ring on your finger and made it official—made it permanent."

"What do you say when we get out of here we head to the courthouse and get married?" he said.

"Yes," she said immediately, her fingers tightening around his. Then she laughed, a watery, breathless sound that came from deep in her chest. "Yes, yes. Please. No more waiting. I’m done waiting."

*****

A few days later, Winn was discharged from the hospital, walking out under his own power with Ivy glued to his side. Reporters lingered outside the gates, cameras flashing, voices shouting questions that no one answered. Ivy kept her head high, sunglasses on, hand locked with Winn’s.

The world, however, was too busy eating Tom Kane alive.

The news was everywhere. Tom Kane Arrested Again on Domestic Violence Charges.Kane Finance Under Scrutiny. His very expensive lawyer had dropped him the moment the money dried up.

Detectives began to peel back the layers surrounding every suspicious death that had ever brushed against the Kane name. This time, he was standing alone in the spotlight, exposed and deeply, spectacularly unlikeable.

They questioned everyone.

Winn, Anna, Tim even Tom’s business partners—men who once toasted him with expensive whiskey—suddenly remembered every shady deal, every angry outburst, every time they’d felt uneasy.

No one had a single nice thing to say about Tom Kane. Not one.

And the media noticed.

His name, once synonymous with power and prestige, was now being dragged from grace to grass in real time. It was astonishing how fast a king could become a cautionary tale.

Morgana finally caved and decided not to press charges.

He was desperate. Truly, spectacularly desperate. Tom Kane sat alone in a motel room. He was broke.

No friends. No family.

But desperation bred imagination.

And imagination landed on one name.

Trish.

If Raphael could do it, then so could he.

The reports had been everywhere Anna had paid a ten-million-dollar ransom for the antidote that saved Winn’s life. Raphael had taken the money and vanished.

(Courtesy of MissyDionne)